


I Want To Know What Love Is

by papermoon2719



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Billy Is Vulnerable, Dry Humping, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mention of M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 10:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papermoon2719/pseuds/papermoon2719
Summary: Billy flicks his cigarette aside and pushes himself away from the passenger's door of the Camaro. His eyes stay trained on Red Lipstick as she gives up on whatever she’s looking for in her bag. She scoffs and Billy can practically hear it. Her maraschino stained lips mutter something to Blondie and the pair heads towards the school. As Billy watches the back of her head until she disappears into the shadowed doorway of the building, he has only one thought: She's going to be mine.OrI was super pissed that Billy's story arc ended with him still being Billy the Abuser and decided to give him a chance to properly make reparations and actually show how good of a person he can be. (But don't worry, Billy the Dick will still pop up. A lot.)Note: I’ve also torn about posting this as-is (with the explicit content), but, upon doing some research, the age of consent is 16 in Indiana and both characters in this fic are 17. If it still makes you uncomfortable, please skip this fic.





	I Want To Know What Love Is

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The timeline for this story has been altered from the show. In this slight AU, Billy and Max moved to Hawkins at the beginning of October, not the end of it. Obviously this might change some stuff for the Party as far as finding out who Max is, etc, but I’m claiming the Fanfiction Exemption. So, to avoid any confusion about the timeline, this story begins on Monday, October 1, 1984. It will skip ahead, but I’ve made sure to include the dates, for the same reason.

The autumn air is crisp as Billy stands in the parking lot, taking in the scene around him. He puffs on a cigarette, his blue eyes analyzing everything in his field of vision. There’s a gaggle of girls standing across the way, their books pulled up to their chests like literary armor, needy eyes flicking between Billy and each other as they hiss things he can only imagine. The thought makes his plump lips turn up in half a smirk. 

He continues to sweep his gaze across the lot, noticing several more groups of anywhere from 2 to 4 girls mimicking the glance-and- whisper dance the first group had been. These small packs are punctuated by one of two things he isn't interested in: couples, and guys. Well,  _ sometimes _ he’s interested in guys, but it really depends on the guy. He’s into Pretty Boys who fuss with their hair and clothes. There doesn't seem to be any in this shithole, so far as he's seen. 

Billy's so lost in his own thoughts that he almost misses it. There, in the opposite corner of the lot. She's standing next to an old beat up Buick, wearing a band tee, jeans, and a denim jacket that looks eerily like it could be a smaller size of the exact one Billy is wearing right now. Her friend is standing on the other side of the car, and the blonde juts out her chin in Billy's direction as she says something. When the first girl pauses from digging around in her bag and looks up, the wind blows her messy shoulder length brown hair back from her face. Billy notices that she's wearing red lipstick.

Then she does something no girl around his age (and even quite a bit older than him) has ever done after getting a good look at him: She rolls her eyes. She  _ rolls _ her goddamn  _ eyes _ . That simple response, one that should have communicated her distaste, made a fire spark in Billy's belly.  _ No one _ rolls their eyes at Billy. The only exception is when it’s out of pleasure as Billy uses his fingers or his tongue or his cock on them. This girl obviously has  _ no idea _ who he is. 

Billy flicks his cigarette aside and pushes himself away from the passenger's door of the Camaro. His eyes stay trained on Red Lipstick as she gives up on whatever she’s looking for in her bag. She scoffs and Billy can practically hear it. Her maraschino stained lips mutter something to Blondie and the pair heads towards the school. As Billy watches the back of her head until she disappears into the shadowed doorway of the building, he has only one thought:  _ She's going to be mine. _

* * *

Red Lipstick is actually named Reagan Clemmons. Billy learns this in first period (English comp - not his favorite, but he supposes he could be having to do worse things than analyze the sex lives of dead men via their literary masterpieces). The name surprises him, being such an uncommon one, and he thinks that her parents must be horror fans. He's fairly certain she isn't a fan of the Presidential Reagan halfway through second period American Government when she begins a heated argument with their teacher, Mr. Green, after he states his support of the President in running for a second term. He nearly snorts when she says that "Yeah, he's better than Nixon, but who  _ isn't  _ better than that dingus."

He's slightly disappointed that she isn't in his third period Phys Ed class, but when they make it to fourth period Trig, there she is, sitting sideways in her desk talking to Blondie (who's name is Ariel, but he made the decision back in comp to stick with Blondie). He surmises that she had an art class for third period if the new paint under her lilac painted nails is any indication. He notices a splatter of blue paint on her neck as he gets closer and has the overwhelming urge to walk over and wipe it off, and is shocked to find himself lifting a hand to his mouth to lick the thumb. He doesn't, just managing to catch himself and run the hand through his damp hair instead.

"This seat taken?"

His voice sounds foreign to him and he almost grimaces. Reagan's eyes flick over to him, her neck stretching when she looks up at him. 

"Nah, go for it," she replies, sounding halfway between bored and annoyed. He drops into the seat, running his hand through his hair again to break up his curls, and he hears her scoff. 

"You're dripping on my notes," she complains, and Billy turns back towards her. He glances at said notes and sees that there are, in fact, tiny droplets of water splattered across the page. 

"Sorry 'bout that," he offers. "Maybe I can help you rewrite them after school."

Normally the sultry tone of his voice and the slow, soft smile would have any girl's panties melting right off. Reagan's, on the other hand, seem to be staying put. Her eyes harden and she returns his smile with one that's dripping in sarcasm.

"I'm good. Thanks, though."

Billy feels a stir of annoyance at her obvious lack of interest, but that's almost instantly covered by the desire to crack her. The feeling is akin to the one he'd felt a mere hour ago when he was kicking Harrington's ass on the basketball court. The need to  _ win _ . 

Billy's just about to offer some other flirtation, maybe tell her it's no problem, he's great with angles or something cheesy but dirty like that, when she does something that makes him take pause. It's minute, but Billy sees it clear as day: her eyes, deep brown and lined in kohl, flick to his neck. He wonders why, but then he feels the cool trail of a drop of water. Then she swallows - shallowly but Billy still catches it - and licks her lips. There's a split second of hunger in her eyes, but then it's gone. 

_ Bingo. _

"If you say so."

His words are nonchalant, but he feels the sweet swoop of victory in his stomach. She was, at least minimally, interested in him. He imagines what her tongue would feel like gliding up his neck to lick away that droplet as he turns to face the board and finds his pants getting a little bit tighter. As the old bat at the front of the room starts on about isosceles triangles, his mind wanders into plotting territory. He goes over everything he's learned about Reagan over the morning:

  1. She looks fucking amazing with red lipstick.
  2. She's a feminist.
  3. She's a liberal.
  4. She doesn't like Shakespeare.
  5. She takes art.
  6. ~~She doesn't want him.~~



This last point brings a smirk to Billy's face and he imagines himself scratching out that last point. 

  1. ~~She doesn't want him.~~ She _wants him to think_ she doesn't want him.



As she begins to answer a question the teacher asked, Billy makes up his mind: he's going to crack her. 

* * *

It isn't until the day before Halloween that Billy gets an opening. Make no mistake, he's  _ tried _ over the past few weeks to make any sort of headway with Reagan. He's flirted, he's been genuine, he's offered to help with her homework. He'd even pondered sticking a note in her locker on one truly desperate occasion, but shook that thought away with a grimace. He wasn't about to sink so low as to do the whole cheesy romance bullshit note passing with her. 

_ Do you like me? Check yes or no! _

_ [ ] Yes ❤ [ ] No :( _

Ugh. No. Just…  _ no. _

So instead he's done the only thing he can think to do until he cracks her: he observes her. He's added so much more to that initial list:

9\. She’s a cat person.  
17\. She prefers tapioca pudding, but will go for chocolate in a pinch.  
22\. She's a massive Queen fan.  
26\. She's a klutz.   
32\. She’s the singer in a band called _The Suckers_ with Blondie and two other band kids.

He’s considered backing off. Maybe finding another girl. Hell, enough of them are throwing themselves at him. He’s even taken a few of them up on their offers. He’d sweet talked them, taken them for a spin in the Camaro. But every time, every  _ single _ time he’d come from the wet warmth of their hands or mouths or cunts, he’d had to bite his tongue to keep from moaning out her name. Reagan.  _ Reagan. _

“Reagan Clemmons, you’re going to be partnered with… Billy Hargrove. 14th Amendment.”

Mr. Green turns his beady eyes back to his roster and Billy has to tamp the sudden rush he feels.  _ Finally _ she was going to be forced to work with him. She wouldn’t be able to wave him off with a scoff and an eye roll. Not if she didn’t want her 3.98 GPA (fact # 13 on his Reagan Fact List) to suffer. Billy feels triumphant as he turns to look across the room and catches Reagan’s eye. He can’t help but wink, it’s basically habit by now, and she responds with the classic eye roll. He can see even from this distance that they’re lined in teal shadow and he thinks the look suits her.

When the bell rings to signal their ten minutes to get to third period. He calls her name before she can disappear into the crowded hallway, and he sees her wave Blondie off, probably with a muttered reassurance. He’s got an invite back to his house to work on the project this afternoon on the tip of his tongue when she turns to him and cuts him off with a raised hand. 

“Before you try to get me to come home with you, I’m going to warn you: you are not getting out of this easy, Hargrove. We are going to get an A on this, and if I have to do that on my own, I will not hesitate to throw you under the proverbial bus, hit reverse, and run you over again. I  _ am  _ going to be valedictorian if only to knock that smug bitch Becky off of her pedestal and onto her stupid face. I am not going to let you fuck that up.”

By the time she finishes her rant, Reagan is glaring at Billy (though he’s pretty sure at least half of it is for Becky) and Billy’s hands are up in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, licking his lips. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes track the movement.

_ Make your move, Hargrove. Reel ‘er in. _

“We  _ can _ go to my place, though.”

She eyes him suspiciously at the offer, then shakes her head.

“No. Library,” she snaps, sticking her chin out defiantly and looking him right in the eye. He raises a brow and cocks his hip a little.

“What, you don’t trust me?” he asks, letting a little bit of that honey drip into his voice. Reagan narrows her eyes and lets out a humorless laugh.

“After having to listen to Tammy talk about blowing you in the  _ Palace _ parking lot? Fuck no.”

Billy feels a punch to the gut at her response, and it’s not entirely unpleasant. Yeah, he could do without the memory of her sickly sweet perfume and off key singing, but it brings back the memory of her lips wrapped around his length.

He’d still been in the driver’s seat, with Tammy leaned over the center console. The gearshift had to have been digging into her side painfully but he didn’t care, he just let his head fall back against the headrest and closed his eyes. He’d imagined it was Reagan with her head in his lap. 

She would be wearing that red lipstick again, and his jacket. She’d have a little black dress underneath it and she’d be moaning as she swallowed him down. She wouldn’t gag as easily as Tammy, and he’d be able to guide her movements until his cock hit the back of her throat. He wouldn’t finish in her mouth, though. No, she’d eventually climb into his lap and he’d push her panties aside, guiding his cock into her slick cunt, and she’d squeeze him like a vice as she rode him. His finger would lower to her clit, rubbing tight circles against it until she cried out his name and gushed her release between them.  _ Oh, Billy, _ she’d moan, red lips millimeters from his.  _ Billy, Billy- _

“Billy!” 

Billy’s blue eyes refocus when Reagan snaps her fingers in front of his face.

“Earth to Hargrove. Hawkins Public Library, after school. I'll meet you there."

Billy nods stupidly as Reagan rolls her eyes again and turns on her heel to join the sea of teenagers in the hall. 

* * *

The second half of the day passes slowly. Reagan goes back to petulantly ignoring Billy when they see each other again in fourth period. He doesn’t see her at lunch, either, but he knows that she’s probably out eating in the field with Blondie and her other friends. They don’t have fifth or sixth period together, so Billy doesn’t see her again until fifteen minutes after the final bell of the day rings. 

He’s mildly surprised when he sees her standing by the Camaro in the parking lot, a slightly sour look on her face. He cracks a grin at her as he sidles up.

“Thought we were meeting there? Not that I have a problem giving you a ride, hop-”

“I’m not here for a ride.”

Billy’s confused and it seems to show on his face. Reagan sighs and glares across the parking lot.

“That waste of space Becky is going to the library with her project partner. So-” she bites out, and Billy interrupts with a wide grin.

“So you want to take me up on my offer.”

Reagan makes a slightly pained expression but nods, grinding her teeth. 

“I’m driving myself, Hargrove,” she says before he can offer her a ride again. He shrugs, walking over to unlock the car. 

“Fine. As long as you think you can keep up with me.”

But, despite his threat, Billy waits for Reagan to pull her car out of her spot and make it across the lot before he peels out, and he actually does the speed limit on the way to his house. Okay, maybe not  _ exactly  _ the speed limit, but only five or ten miles above it, at most. Billy doesn’t regret his offer until he realizes that he has no idea what part of town Reagan lives in. For all he knows she lives in Loch Nora and thinks he’s pure trash. 

These are the thoughts that plague him as he climbs out of the car, flipping to his house key as Reagan climbs out of the car. She glances up at the house and he can only imagine what she’s going to say -  _ Christ, Hargrove, what kind of dump do you live in, ha, you’re just white trash, you stupid fucking loser- _

“You drive like a fucking lunatic, do you know that?”

The insult isn’t exactly what he’s expecting and he finds relief in that.

“You concerned for my safety, Princess?” He doesn’t mean to use the pet name, it just slips away from him, and he can tell immediately that she doesn’t like it. She tenses briefly, then rolls her eyes.

“No. I just don’t want you to plow into a tree and leave me with all the fucking work for this project.”

She hikes her bag up higher on her shoulder and starts to follow him before snapping, “and don’t call me that.”

Billy thinks about making a comment, maybe throwing in another pet name, but he knows he has to play his cards right with Reagan. So he bites his tongue - no, literally, chomps on his tongue lightly - and follows her up to the door. She stands beside it as he opens it and ushers her inside. Thank god his father and Susan are at work. 

Billy can't help but watch Reagan with bated breath as her eyes dart around the living room, taking it all in. He steels himself for an insult, a giggle, a grimace when she sees just how poor he is, but it doesn't come. Instead, she surprises him by walking over to the glass jar full of shells on the mantle and puts her finger to it. 

"I forgot that you're from California," she says simply, and Billy doesn't know how to respond to the soft tone of her voice. He’s honestly surprised that she knows anything about him, considering how hard she tries to convey her disinterest. It's different from the tight sarcasm she tends to use with him. He likes it. 

"Yeah. You ever seen the beach?"

He's assuming she'll say no, sets it up so that he can make a half baked offer to take her one day, an offer that will probably never come to fruition. So when she nods her head and looks him in the eye, he finds himself a little shocked again. 

"I lived in Florida until I started high school. We moved up here halfway through ninth grade."

Her words are soft and kind of vulnerable, and Billy doesn't know how to react other than -

"Bet you look really sexy in a bikini."

He regrets his words almost immediately. He knows the moment's over then, can practically hear it leave, like a gust of wind flying out the window. Reagan's eyes go from soft to hard again, her mouth setting in a firm, sarcastic smile as she drops her hand. 

"Let's just get this stupid project over with so I can go home, okay, Hargrove?" she says, her voice filled with annoyance again. Billy does his best to shrug it off but he can feel the pull of something unfamiliar in his chest… is it shame? He does his best to ignore it as he leads Reagan to his room. 

Once again, Billy finds himself waiting with bated breath to gauge her reaction when she sees his room. This is his space, his sanctuary, and he finds that he wants her to like it. It's a foreign feeling. But, once again, Reagan only takes it in and moves on, like she isn’t really bothered by it. She rolls her eyes at the playboy centerfolds tacked up on his walls, but that's really her only reaction. He feels relieved and it's strange. 

Billy feels so relieved that he almost laughs when he realizes that Reagan is looking for somewhere to sit. The only available spaces are the floor and his bed, which is still unmade from this morning. He drops onto the bed, stretching out on his side and propping himself up on one elbow.

“You’re allowed to sit,” he says, trying to keep the chuckle out of his voice. A smirk finds its way onto his lips, though, and he doesn’t fight it. Reagan eyes him suspiciously but sits stiffly on the far corner of the bed. She sets her bag at her feel and pulls out her textbook.

“So, Amendment fourteen,” she says, her voice tight. Billy can see exactly how tense she is and has the overwhelming urge to crawl up behind her and massage the stiffness from her shoulders. He’s had a lot of overwhelming urges around her.

Instead, he sits up and starts to take his boots off. Reagan falters in her reading, but then powers on, continuing for what seems like hours. By the time she’s finished Billy is sitting next to her, his jacket gone along with his boots. His shoulder brushes hers and he’s slightly annoyed that her jacket is still on. 

"You can take this off, y'know. I won't jump your bones if you aren't wearing it," Billy teases, plucking lightly at the shoulder of the offending article of clothing, then imagines her wearing  _ his _ jacket,  _ only  _ his jacket, and feels his jeans tightening. Luckily Reagan doesn't seem to notice as she nods and tugs it off (after a cursory suspicious look, of course). She drapes it over her bag and raises an eyebrow at him. 

"Better?" she snaps, and Billy's eyes are drawn to where the cut collar of her Grateful Dead shirt has fallen off of one slender shoulder. He wants to know what her skin tastes like so badly in that moment, but luckily he's able to just shrug nonchalantly. 

"As long as you're comfortable."

His voice is back to being sultry, but this time it isn't on purpose. Reagan rolls her eyes again, then looks back at the binder in her lap. 

"You don't have to try so hard with me, y'know."

Billy isn't sure what she means, and when she looks back up again he sees something else mixed with the annoyance he's grown used to seeing there. 

"Try so hard for what?" he asks, an edge to his voice. He can feel his heart thudding in his chest, and it's not because of the thrill of the chase. It's not excitement. It's  _ nerves _ . Billy Hargrove is fucking  _ nervous _ and it pisses him off. 

"This… the flirting," she responds, pointing between them. "You try way too hard and it's annoying."

Billy feels a flash of anger at her bluntness and he narrows his eyes. 

"Who says I'm flirting with you?" he snaps, and inner-Billy gapes at him.  _ What the fuck are you doing, you moron?! She's basically telling you she likes you! Stop being such a dick!  _

As if she knows what he's thinking, Reagan rolls her eyes. 

"Seriously? Half the shit that comes out of your mouth is innuendo, and the other half is practically dirty talk. All I'm saying is that not every girl is into you being so…" 

She makes a motion that reminds him of a kid pretending to be a bear and raises an eyebrow at him. He eyes her and now it's his turn to be suspicious. 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" 

Reagan rolls her eyes again (and honestly Billy is starting to get really fucking sick of the eye rolling) and shakes her head. 

"Nevermind," she mutters, then looks back at the binder. But Billy wants to know what the fuck is going on, so he reacts in true Billy fashion and reaches over to take the binder from her lap. She scrambles to stop him but isn't fast enough, and she watches angrily as he closes it one handed and holds it above his head. 

"Give me back my binder, dillweed," she demands, trying to reach for it, but her arms aren't long enough and all she ends up doing is rubbing her body against his, and he feels his dick start to harden. She smells like coconut shampoo and it reminds him of home and suddenly all of his emotions boil to the surface. 

"Not until you tell me what you meant," he growls. Reagan glares at him and then stands, trying to walk around him to grab the binder. But once again he’s too quick and he moves it behind him. 

“Jesus Christ, Hargrove, fucking  _ stop it _ ,” she growls, doing her best to reach the binder without touching him. She finally seems to give up and stands in front of him, fuming.

“Tell me and I’ll give it back,” Billy offers, but Reagan tightens her mouth, shaking her head. “Then I guess you’re just going to have to take it from me.”

Billy doesn’t think it’ll work. He doesn’t think that she’s going to take the bait. She’ll probably just flip him off, give up-

Billy nearly gasps in shock when she throws herself at him, taking him by surprise and knocking him to the side. His arm crumples and he falls back, losing grip on the binder and she’s able to grab it and slip it away from him. She lets out a small laugh of triumph and sits up, looking at him smugly. That is, until she looks down and notices that she’s straddling his lap. Then it’s his turn to take her by surprise. He sits up and grabs her by the waist, flipping them so that he’s pressing her into the bed. She stares up at him with wide eyes, but they're not filled with fear, like he'd expect. There's something else in them… something like  _ want.  _

"Tell me to get off of you," he murmurs, a little bite behind his words but not much. Reagan looks at him quizzically and holds the binder to her chest. But she doesn't say anything, so Billy leans in a little closer. 

"Tell me to get off of you," he repeats, his breath fanning over her face, "and I will."

Reagan looks conflicted for a moment, shifting her hips a little. His cock, now completely hard in his jeans, presses into the dip of her left hipbone and he bites back a groan. Reagan takes in a sharp breath and Billy sees her eyes flutter a little before she bites her lip. Her next words are spoken in a breathy, soft voice that Billy hasn't heard before but, now that he's hearing it, he doesn't want to hear her speak in any other way. 

"I don't think either of us wants that, Billy."

In those words, Billy feels triumph. He feels as though he's been given permission. He feels  _ wanted _ . So he takes his chance, leaning down and softly,  _ experimentally _ pressing his mouth to hers. She doesn't respond at first, but then he feels her mouth twitch, feels her lips go firm against his as she returns the kiss tentatively. She tastes like cherry and cigarettes - how did he miss that she smokes - and Billy is instantly addicted. He pulls away, only a centimeter apart, and opens his eyes to see her staring at him. She looks a little like a cornered animal, but then that look is gone. 

She reaches up, weaving a hand in his curls to pull his face down to hers, and opens her mouth to him in a kiss that's all teeth and tongue. He groans into it, rolling his hips once, twice. He settles more of his weight on her and feels the binder dig into his chest, so he reaches between them to tug it away. Reagan takes the opportunity to buck up against him and Billy moans again as the pressure to his dick sends a lick of pleasure up his spine. 

Luckily Reagan is wearing a denim skirt and fishnets today, so it's easy for him to reach down and tug her knee up over his hip. She moves the other around to hook her Converse clad feet behind his waist and nibbles his bottom lip. Billy feels a smirk tug at his lips when he grinds down against her and she pulls her head back with a sharp gasp. 

"Fuck," she breathes, and Billy decides it's his favorite word. He presses his face into her neck and suckles at the skin there, then reaches down and undoes the buckle of his belt one handedly. It's tight, and his hips seem to be moving of their own volition, but he manages to get it and the button of his jeans undone. 

"Underwear stay on," Reagan moans, and Billy could care less about fucking her so long as he gets to see her face as he makes her come. So he nods, then leans up to kiss her again as she helps him push his now unzipped jeans over the swell of his ass. 

He has to pull back from her mouth and groan aloud when his cock is freed to press against her core. Even with two layers of cotton between them he can feel how hot she is, and her slick is already starting to soak into the front of his briefs. He never thought being restricted to dry humping could be so amazing, but this is better than all of the meaningless fucking he's done combined. 

"Fuck, I've been waiting for this," he groans. Reagan only whimpers as the head of his cock catches and digs into her clit. He lowers his mouth back to hers and she suckles his tongue, beginning to roll her hips, chasing her orgasm without abandon. The noises she's making are going straight to his cock and he can feel himself nearing the edge embarrassingly quickly. 

"You close?" Billy asks, pressing his open mouth to Reagan's cheek as his hips continue to work against her. Reagan whimpers and nods, reaching up to pull his hand to her breast. 

"Just need a little - ah!"

Her words are cut off when he pinches her nipple through her shirt, and suddenly he can feel her cunt fluttering against the underside of his cock as she clamps down around nothing and the image of his cock buried deep inside her sends him flying over the edge, and he's coming in his pants like he hasn't done since middle school.

Reagan is panting into his ear as he rests his cheek against hers. 

"Fuck," he groans, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He's going to ask her on a proper date, he decides. Tommy H. told him about a party tomorrow at some girl's house and he's going to ask Reagan if he can take her for dinner at the little diner across from Melvald's and then to the party. He's gonna give it a real go this time, cause he can actually see himself with this girl - maybe not at the Snow Ball or prom, but he wants to hold her hand in the hallway and make eye contact with her up in the stands at basketball games and let her wear his jacket and see what she looks like making a snow angel and he wants to take her to Cali and feel her pressed against him in the surf and he thinks maybe, just maybe, he's falling -

"I gotta go."

Three words. Three little words that Billy is  _ so  _ familiar with, but coming from someone else… they're so foreign that it takes him a moment to register that they're English. By the time he does she’s shoving him away, not meeting his eye as she pushes herself up off of the bed. He's in borderline disbelief as she gathers her things and hurries out of the room. The hurt starts when he hears the front door slam. The anger starts when he hears her car start up and he manages to pull his jeans up and get to the window to see her drive off without a backwards glance. 


End file.
